Neverland
by whitetiger91
Summary: It's 1996, a war is brewing and all Theodore wants is a place to be himself. A place where the future doesn't matter, a place where hope still exists. As he soon discovers, he isn't the only one in need of such a place.


**Neverland**

The door opened, a slither of light cutting across the room. Just as quickly, the light vanished, the door closing with no more than a soft 'click.' A noise that, thanks to the heavy snoring filling the room, only one occupant could hear.

After waiting for a few seconds to give the blond escapee a head start, Theodore pulled aside his blanket and sheets. He slid from his bed and padded across the room, waiting another few seconds before opening the door and heading up the narrow staircase leading to the common room. He was sure that Draco did not expect anyone would follow him at this hour, but it would not help Theodore for Draco to discover him now.

There was no sign of Draco in the common room when Theodore reached it, and when he stuck his head out of the portrait door, he saw the flash of platinum blond turning the corner. He had a feeling he knew where Draco was headed, but it didn't stop him from walking after him just to be sure.

Draco was in a hurry, taking the stairs two at a time. Every now and again, he would jump, the flutter of an owl soaring past the window or a portrait stirring startling him. Theodore would quickly move into the shadows, holding his breath as he waited for Draco to discover him. He could almost hear the blond's racing heartbeat, and in the dim light of the candles lining the castle walls, he could see small beads of sweat forming on his pale forehead.

Eventually, Draco stopped in front of a blank wall. Theodore ducked behind a nearby suit of armour, watching as the blond paced back and forth in front of the wall. Soon, a large, wooden door appeared, and with another look behind him, Draco disappeared behind it.

Theodore sighed, slipping out from his hiding spot. Just as he has suspected, Draco had led him straight to the secret room Potter and his little friends had used the year before for their meetings. Theodore had often wondered why no one thought to try and use the room since, at least those who had half a brain to figure out how it operated. He had since researched it—behaving more like a Ravenclaw than he cared to admit—and found that, in all of the many rooms, passages and towers of Hogwarts, that it was the best place to hide something.

With a sigh, he slid down the wall. Draco would probably be a while inside, doing whatever he had to do for the so-called Dark Lord; he might as well get comfortable. The corridor was cold, but Theodore didn't mind. He preferred the cold, knowing he always had the power to warm himself up if necessary, rather than unseasonably warm days when cooling down was almost impossible. He didn't mind, either, that it caused his arms to break out in goosebumps because it was the only marking on his arms.

He couldn't understand why Draco had allowed himself to be put in this position. Why the boy had taken the mark, why he was spending all his spare time sneaking around the school with shadows under his eyes. Why Draco followed in his father's footsteps, rather than doing everything in his power to get away from it all.

Shivering, more goosebumps covering his flesh, Theodore pulled his sleeves over his arms. No, he did know why Draco was doing this, and it was the same reason that had Theodore following him, hoping to see if the boy ever made progress.

It was a few hours before Draco reappeared from the room, the shadows under his eyes darker than ever before. As the door melted into the wall behind him, Theodore saw his roommate punch the wall, only to wince and cradle his hand to his chest. Then, muttering a few choice words under his breath that Theodore was sure Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't like, Draco stormed down the corridor. The boy didn't notice that he was sitting there, but even so, it wasn't until he disappeared around the corner that Theodore stood up.

Stretching his stiff legs, Theodore walked over to the now blank wall. He stared up at the stone for a moment, wondering if the room would reveal whatever Malfoy wanted so badly to hide from everyone. When the Inquisitorial Squad had discovered the room, none of them had actually walked into it, too busy dealing with Potter and his group.

Standing there wasn't going to open it, however, and Theodore took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, shutting his mind to all distractions, and paced in front of the wall.

'I would like access to the secret room,' he thought, over and over again. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not his statement was too vague, but as he crossed in front of the wall for the third time and opened his eyes, he supposed he had been specific enough.

The large, wooden door presented itself to him, and before it could melt away, Theodore grabbed the brass handle, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

At first, the room appeared to be nothing more than a floor and walls, all the same shade of blinding white. He had to blink a few times so that his eyes would adjust, noticing that as he did, the room slowly transformed into a more pleasant, familiar setting.

Two mahogany bookcases lined the walls, filled with books of all sizes. On the other two walls, a bed, dresser and shelves took up space, topped with all sorts of toys and trinkets. Theodore shook his head, positive that it was some sort of mirage. When he picked up one of the trinkets—a small, hand painted box with his name scrawled across the top—however, he knew that it wasn't an illusion. More importantly, he knew that it couldn't have been the same place that Malfoy came to hide.

He sunk onto the bed, staring around the room, his heart threatening to burst through his chest. No, it was definitely not Malfoy's hiding place; it was Theodore's old bedroom. The bedroom that his mother had designed for him, had filled with all the things that he had loved as a child. The bedroom that his mother spent night after night tucking him into bed in, reading him a story and promising that everything would be alright. The bedroom that, long after his mother had passed and Hogwarts had claimed him, his father had destroyed, displeased that it was not a room fit for a proper Nott heir.

Taking a deep breath, he laid back on the bed. The sheets themselves were the same royal blue his mother had once picked out, and as he closed his eyes, Theodore swore he heard his mother's soft voice singing his lullaby.

He hadn't found Malfoy's hideout; he had found something much better.

* * *

Theodore visited the room several times since having followed Malfoy. It wasn't too hard to slip away after meals and classes, his peers too wrapped up in their own lives to care about his actions. Only Blaise ever asked where he went and seemed satisfied when he would simply answer with: "the library."

It wasn't much of a stretch, for even now, Theodore sat at a desk in the library trying to finish his Potions essay, all the while counting down the time he could slip away to the Room of Requirement. He never used to think that way; the library had been his sanctuary. It was a place of quiet in all the noise and excitement of the castle; Madame Prince often tried to make sure that the only noise made was the careful turning of a book's page. His new room, however, was just for him, and if he didn't have to wait until Draco vacated it, he would be there every second of the day. In the room, he could read to his heart's content, and remember the days of his childhood when the sun actually shone.

It certainly didn't have anyone sobbing uncontrollably.

Gritting his teeth, Theodore placed his quill on his parchment. He had written the same sentence four times, the sound of sniffling interrupting his thoughts. He looked up for Madame Pince, hoping the hawk-like woman would swoop down on whoever it was that was being so inconsiderate, only to see the witch's office door closed.

Sighing, he looked at the clock and began to pack up his belongings. It was still too early to visit his room; even if Draco wasn't there, students were still milling about the corridors, too cold to venture outside. He supposed he could wait outside the room for an opportunity, but the thought of having to listen to other students' endless gossip was almost as unbearable as the sound of crying.

Walking down the aisle he was in, he passed a few shelves, headed towards the source of the noise. He would remind whoever it was that books were not tissues, and that no one had come into the library to listen to their petty problems. Yet when he rounded the Divination aisle, he stopped in his tracks.

There, huddled by a window, was Tracey Davis. Her head was buried in her knees, and with each sob, her shoulders shook.

Theodore wavered on the spot. Tracey was one of the few people he could stand, and he certainly would not tell her off if it wasn't entirely necessary. Nevertheless, he found that his feet would not allow him to walk away and leave her in the state she was in. From the looks of it, Parkinson must have said something to upset Tracey again, as the pug often did to most girls she came across. Watching the tears slide down the girl's left cheek, her brown hair sticking to the salty tracks, his heart gave a funny jolt.

He shook his head and turned away. It was none of his business why the girl was crying, and if she was tucked away in an aisle students rarely frequented, she probably did not want anyone to see her. No Slytherin girls cried in public, really. He didn't even know why he cared, anyway. Hoisting his bag strap over his shoulder, he headed back for the library doors.

Yet Tracey's sobs followed him and before he realised what he was doing, he found himself traipsing back down the aisle.

"Everything alright?" he asked, stopping just in front of Tracey. When she looked up, her brown eyes bloodshot and confused, he added, "I could hear you from the other side of the library."

Tracey sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her robe sleeve. "Oh."

Theodore looked away, part of him appalled by such an action. Most girls would have pulled out a handkerchief or turned away themselves. A bigger part of him, however, found it somewhat endearing that she didn't care, and looked back at her.

"So, are you ok?" he prompted, shifting from one foot to the other.

Tracey wiped her nose again. "Doesn't matter," she whispered, her words almost cut off by a hiccough. "You can't do anything about it."

"Probably not."

The girl blinked, as though she had expected him to say something else, like he could fix it. Theodore wasn't in the habit of making false promises, though, and as she put her head back onto her knees, he sighed.

"Well, I've got things to do," he said, adjusting his shoulder strap again.

Tracey nodded, a few more hiccoughs wracking her body. He took a step back, eyes still trained on her.

"Look, if Parkinson's done something to you, fight back. That girl needs putting back in her place." It wasn't much, but it was all he had to offer.

Tracey was quiet for a moment, save for a few sniffles. It was only when Theodore took another few steps back, intent on leaving, that she spoke again.

"It's not Pansy," she said, her voice muffled by her knees. "It's this stupid war that's about to happen. I don't want any part of it but we both know none of us will get to choose our sides."

Theodore froze. He had the urge to tell her not to be so stupid and assuming, but she was right. It seemed all of their lives, whether Pureblood, Halfblood, or other, were in danger, and none of them had the choice to avoid it.

"But you wouldn't understand," she continued, emitting more sobs.

Now she really was being assuming, just like everyone else. Slytherins and Gryffindors alike thought he would join his father, most believing he would do so willingly.

Clenching his jaw, he knelt down in front of Tracey.

"I do," he said, causing her to look up at him.

"What?"

Taking a deep breath and knowing he'd probably end up regretting it later, he held his hand out. She stared at it, still sniffing. Theodore sighed and pulled it back.

"Look, I'm not going to lie; the war is going to be horrendous, for everyone. But just let me show you something first, ok?"

Tracey wiped at her eyes. Slowly, she heaved herself up, one of her knees cracking as she did so. Her cheeks turned even redder—if that was possible—and she turned away from him to gather up her own bag.

Neither said a word as Theodore led her down corridor after corridor, turning around only a few times to check that she was still following. His mind told him it wasn't too late to turn around, to lead her back to the Slytherin common room instead. That he didn't have to show her his secret place. Afterall, Tracey had not even bothered to ask where they were going, nor did she seem to be paying attention to the path they were taking; her gaze was averted from the curious stares of students passing by, focused instead on the floor. His feet continued to carry him, though, and soon they were standing in the seventh-floor corridor.

Theodore glanced up and down, relieved that it was now free of any lurking students. The only occupants besides him and Tracey were a couple of trolls in a portrait that some barmy wizard was trying to teach ballet to. Tracey finally glanced away from the floor, staring around the hallway.

"What are we doing here?" she asked. She stared at the wall they stood in front of, blinking away fresh tears.

Theodore rolled his eyes, walking back and forth in front of it. He had thought that Tracey would have remembered the room, especially since she had always been brighter than any of the other girls in their house.

Still, he smiled when the door appeared and Tracey let out a gasp.

"It's a place of my own," he said, opening the door. Stepping inside, he held the door open for her. "Are you coming?"

Tracey nodded, another hiccough escaping her rosy lips. The door faded away when she walked inside, but she didn't seem to take any notice. Her eyes widened as she looked around, taking in the rows and rows of books that now lined the walls.

Theodore had redecorated since he had first discovered the room for himself, where the room now resembled a library where he could lose himself in books of his choice. He had been testing the room's powers, wondering if it did provide what the user needed with a mere thought. It had worked, of course, and now he had access to a chess set, comfortable lounge—one that the seventh years could not hog—fireplace, and a few copies of miscellaneous items from his childhood.

He walked over to the lounge and sat down, not waiting until Tracey sat. He could see that she was too busy taking it all in, her mouth parted as she stared around at everything. Tear tracks stained her cheeks, but this time, she did not bother to wipe them away.

"Is this… Is this the place Potter used?" she asked, spinning in a circle.

He shook his head, picking up the handkerchief that appeared on the table in front of him. He stood and walked over to her, holding it out.

Tracey stared at it, her hand moving up to her cheeks. "Oh, thanks," she said, taking it.

He gave her some privacy as she mopped up some of the mascara that stained her eyes. When she was finished, she tapped him on the shoulder and held the handkerchief out to him.

"You keep it."

"Oh, alright." She tucked the handkerchief into her pocket and resumed her inspection of the room. "So, what is this place?"

Theodore didn't know whether he should sit back down, or stay by her side. His hands felt a bit sweaty, almost making him wish he had taken the handkerchief back. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and copied Tracey.

"I call it my Neverland," he said, his gaze focused on one of the trinkets on the desk he had wished for. It was the handpainted box with his name on it, something he had made sure to keep in the room.

"Neverland?" Tracey said and Theodore looked back to her as she walked over to one of the bookshelves. She traced her finger over the spines of the various tomes, a smile lighting up her face. "Oh, I had this book," she said, pointing to a copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

Theodore found his own lips twitching upwards. "Yes, Neverland. It was from a book my mother once read to me when I was younger."

"Oh." Tracey took out the fairytale book. "What was it called?"

" _Peter Pan._ "

He continued watching Tracey, waiting to see if she would recognise it. The entire house had discovered one day in their second year—much to Tracey's horror—that she was only a Halfblood. It was the only other time Theodore had ever seen Tracey so upset, yet he couldn't help but wonder if she had squashed that side of her when at home. He had always suspected that, like his mother, not every Slytherin witch detested Muggle culture, and Tracey's next words confirmed as much.

"But isn't that… Isn't that a Muggle tale?" she asked. Her eyes were alight with confusion, but although her smile had disappeared, she did not look disgusted.

Theodore walked over to her. "It's like that book you're holding, filled with the Muggles' version of magic. Neverland is a place in the book where children go so they don't have to grow up," he said.

Tracey nodded, staring at the cover of the fairytale book. Her cheeks were tinged red, and Theodore had to lean in so as not to miss her next words. "Just like us."

His smile widened. "This place is like my Neverland. Here, I can spend hours just doing what I want to do, without anyone interrupting me or reminding me about what the future holds."

Tracey's face fell and she pushed the book back into the slot she got it. He took a step back and frowned as she walked over and picked up the bag she dropped when she had entered the room.

"I'm sorry," she said, heading towards the door.

"For what?"

"I didn't mean to—to, well, what I said earlier. This is your place, and I didn't mean to mention the war. I—I've got to go," she said.

Without a second thought, he grabbed her wrist. He felt Tracey stiffen in his grasp and quickly let go, his own cheeks feeling warm. The girl spun around to face him, her brown eyes wide.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to grab you," Theodore said, dropping his hands by his side.

Tracey didn't say anything, but she didn't run either. He took the opportunity to explain himself, worried she thought he might have lost the plot.

"Look, I know you're worried about the war," he said, locking his eyes onto hers. "I won't lie, I am too. I spend too much time worrying about what will happen when I get older— _if_ I get older. But that's why I have this place to escape it sometimes."

Tracey nodded. "It's a good escape."

"You can use it whenever you want," he said, and this time, no voice was in his head telling him to keep the place to himself. If there was, it surely would have been squashed by the way Tracey smiled at him.

"Alright," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks."

Silence reigned for a moment. Tracey was the first to look away, walking back over to the bookshelf. She took out different books, inspecting the titles, before placing them back. Theodore stood where he was, not sure if he should stand with her or go back to his seat.

"So, who else knows about this place?" she asked.

She was holding a book, and when Theodore looked closer, he saw that it was a copy of _Peter Pan_. She sat down on the lounge, opening the cover, staring expectantly at him. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was holding her breath.

Walking over to the lounge, he sat down next to her. "Just you and me," he said, his cheeks growing warmer. When she smiled at him and looked down at the book, he added, "I followed someone here, but I don't think even they know about this version."

"Oh." Then, her smile widening, she said, "Well, how about you tell me more about this Neverland?"

Unable to stop his own smile spreading, Theodore took the book Tracey offered him and started reading. The room felt more comfortable than it had before, and although he knew matters in the Wizarding World would only get worse, any remaining thoughts of Draco and his father that had plagued his mind slipped away.

It wasn't Potter's hideout, nor Draco's. This was his Neverland—their Neverland.

* * *

 ** _A/N: This fic was written for Emma (public static void) who, along with her Durmstrang team, won The Golden Snitch forum's Easter Scavenger Hunt. Well done, and I hope you like this fic featuring a Slytherin pairing and the prompt 'Neverland' :)_**

 ** _A humongous thank you to Emily (DolbyDigital) for taking the time to beta this for me and make it readable haha. Thank you!_**


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